With lips like morphine you kiss the scars on my skin, darling don’t let go now; I’m almost under. Hand gently around my neck, I feel your breath in my ear and you beg for a cigarette, fingers gradually tightening. The flame flickers in the dim lit room and you’re propped up on a pillow emitting quick, neat smoke rings. My body curves to the contours of yours and we lay in silence in the bed where I gave myself to you. The faint crackle of singed tobacco softly resonates and you lean in to entwine tongues in a nicotine veiled caress. Right there, I wanted you to bite my lip and inhale my ex-boyfriend’s name from my lips so he never enters the realm of our banter. Right there, this premature taste of winter chills me to the bone.